Part 10 (1/2)

Transley's men had repaired such machines as they could and returned to work. The clatter of mowing machines filled the valley; the horses were speeded up to recover lost time. Transley and Y.D. rode about, carefully scrutinizing the short gra.s.s for iron stakes, and keeping a general eye on operations.

Suddenly Transley sat bolt-still on his horse. Then, in a low voice,

”Y.D!” he said.

The rancher turned and followed the line of Transley's vision. The nearest of Landson's stacks was ablaze, and a great pillar of smoke was rolling skyward. Even as they watched, the base of the fire seemed to spread; then, in a moment, tongues of flame were seen leaping from a stack farther on.

”Looks like your prayers were answered, Y.D.,” said Transley. ”I bet they haven't a plow nearer than the ranch.”

Y.D. seemed fascinated by the sight. He could not take his eyes off it. He drew a cigar from his pocket and thrust it far into his mouth, chewing it savagely and rolling it in his lips, but, according to the law of the hayfield, refraining from lighting it. At first there was a gleam of vengeance in his eyes, but presently that gave way to a sort of horror. Every honorable tradition of the range demanded that he enlist his force against the common enemy.

”h.e.l.l, Transley!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, ”we can't sit and look at that! Order the men out! What have we got to fight with?”

For answer Transley swung round in his saddle and struck his palm into Y.D.'s.

”Good boy, Y.D!” he said. ”I did you an injustice--I mean, about your prayers being answered. We haven't as much as a plow, either, but we can gallop down with some barrels in a wagon and put a sack brigade to work. I'm afraid it won't save Landson's hay, but it will show where our hearts are.”

Transley and Y.D. galloped off to round up the men, some of whom had already noticed the fire. Transley despatched four men and two teams to take barrels, sacks, and horse blankets to the Landson meadows. The others he sent off at once on horseback to give what help they could.

Zen rode up just as they left, and already her fine horse seemed to realize the tension in the air. His keen, hard-strung muscles quivered as she brought his gallop to a stop.

”How did it start, Dad?” she demanded.

”How do I know?” he returned, shortly. ”D'ye think I fired it?”

”No, but I just asked the question that Landson will ask, so you better have your answer handy. I'm going to gallop down to their ranch; perhaps I can help Mrs. Landson.”

”The ranch buildings are safe enough, I think,” said Transley. ”The gra.s.s there is close cropped, and there is some plowing.”

For a moment the three sat, watching the spread of the flames. By this time the whole lower valley was blanketed in smoke. Clouds of blue and mauve and creamy yellow rolled from the meadows and stacks. The fire was whipping the light breeze of the afternoon to a gale, and was already running wildly over the flanks of the foothills.

”Well, I'm off,” said Zen. ”Good-bye!”

”Be careful, Zen!” her father shouted. ”Fire is fire.” But already her horse was stretching low and straight in a hard gallop down the valley.

”I'll ride in to camp and tell Tompkins to make up a double supply of sandwiches and coffee,” said Transley. ”I guess there'll be no cooking in Landson's outfit this afternoon. After that we can both run down and lend a hand, if that suits you.”

As they rode to camp together Y.D. drew up close to the contractor.

”Transley,” he said, ”how do you reckon that fire started?”

”I don't know,” said Transley, ”any more than you do.”

”I didn't ask you what you KNEW. I asked you what you reckoned.”

Transley rode for some minutes in silence. Then at last he spoke:

”A man isn't supposed to reckon in things of this kind. He should know, or keep his mouth shut. But I allow myself just one guess. Drazk.”

”Why Drazk?” Y.D. demanded. ”He has nothin' to gain, and this prank may put him in the cooler.”

”Drazk would do anything to be spectacular,” Transley explained. ”He probably will boast openly about it. You know, he's trying to make an impression on Zen.”

”Nonsense!”